Memories of the Mourning Wind
by vivikv
Summary: The wind is an ancient thing, with a long memory. For millennia it has observed the world's events, both great and terrible, with the impartiality Mother Nature requires. But when it comes to a particular little staff-wielding spirit and one of the mortals he crosses paths with...sometimes the wind can't help but be curious. Jack/Elsa friendship pairing only. R&R!
1. The Beginning

_"My disposition revealed by soft whispers through the trees, or howls from the north, saddled on winter's cold, pale steed._

 _Old as God himself, being born of his first breath. I fill the lungs of eternity, forever evading death."_

 _-Arlene Smith, "Wind"_

* * *

The storm outside was picking up.

The walls groaned at the wind's increased pressure. Elsa felt the ice at her back shudder after a particularly strong gust. She was alone in the upper room, leaning against the balcony doors. She drew her knees to her chest and stared absently at the patterns etched into the ice floor.

 _Why do you always shut me out?_

Her fingernails dug through the thin sleeves of her dress. She was free, in a glittering castle of her own creation on the most majestic of mountains.

 _Why do you shut the world out?_

She shook her head, eyes closed, trying to erase the memory that refused to be forgotten. Up here she would be safe from the hate and the fear. Up here she could be herself...

 _What are you so afraid of?!_

The wind howled. The sound echoed faintly through the rooms and hallways of the frozen structure. The _empty_ rooms and hallways.

 _Elsa…._

And there it was again. The memory of Anna's face, eyes full of fear, disbelief, and betrayal. A jagged hole had been torn in Elsa's soul, and the memory refused to remain buried in her subconscious. Instead it hovered like a shadow over her mind, creeping into the corners of her vision and playing over and over whenever she closed her eyes.

Elsa could feel her composure slipping, but stubbornly grit her teeth and stared at the folds of her dress. The material shimmered under the diffused blue light that emanated from the enchanted ice. It looked beautiful, and in a strange way familiar, like the barely remembered thread of a childhood wish, and yet it somehow...still felt foreign. Much like the stories she'd been told as a child, of how even the most experienced sailors tremble in both fear and awe when the dark swells of the ocean beyond the fjord threaten to overwhelm them. She pressed a hand over her mouth. Her breathing became uneven, and despite her best efforts, a muffled sob escaped through her fingers. A hot tear slid down her cheek and froze before it reached her chin.

Was _this_ what she'd dreamed about? Elsa's breath hitched painfully. What was the difference between sitting alone in her room, and sitting alone in her tower?

"You can't hurt anyone here. You can't hurt anyone here. You can't…" But the words felt hollow. Deep down, she _knew_. She was still running, still scared...

Nothing had changed.

* * *

After wreaking (some much-needed) havoc on a few of Australia's popular ski resorts, Jack had rode the wind north, intending to maintain his tradition of spying on Santoff Clausen's occupants. He soared over land and sea at dizzying speeds, taking advantage of natural wind currents and calling on the wind when needed. He somersaulted and spun with staff in hand, smiling at the satisfying thrill that ran through his body whenever he used his powers. He was over Russia when the wind...shifted. Jack squinted and briefly glanced around, but didn't stop. The strange feeling ebbed and he promptly forgot about it. Several miles later he felt the impression again, and this time he drifted to a stop. The landscape beneath him was black, occasional clusters of golden light glittering like fallen fairy dust. The sky was nearly the same color as the earth, but the wind had never been a visible friend anyway. Jacke hovered in the darkness, absently tapping a soundless tune on the staff with his finger as he waited. His patience was eventually rewarded with a third mysterious whisper. Intrigued, Jack sent a wordless question to the wind. And...for once the wind didn't answer.

He twirled his staff, thinking. It was the wind's voice, no doubt, but its normally carefree lilt was laced with something else. Jack struggled to pinpoint the feeling. Warning? Confusion? The feeling blew strongest from the west. Jack sent one last glance north before heading in the new direction. The corner of his mouth tweaked into a smile as he flew westward.

Those darned Yetis could wait. This seemed _much_ more interesting.

* * *

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

 _Aaaaaand here we go! Finally getting around to writing this fanfic that's been tumbling around in my head.  
_

 _FYI this will be a Jack/Elsa **friendship** pairing story only._

 _Leave your comments/critique/predictions in a review! I'd love to read them! :D_


	2. Time Flows Only One Way

**Here's the (overdue) update! Time flies. This chapter is a bit longer. Author notes at the bottom!  
**

* * *

 _Can I see a falling tear,_

 _And not feel my sorrow's share?_

 _Can a father see his child_

 _Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?_

 _Can a mother sit and hear_

 _An infant groan, an infant fear?_

 _No, no! Never can it be!_

 _Never, never can it be!_

 _-William Frost_

* * *

Anna rode as fast as she dared through the snowy gloom, thoughts focused on her sister instead of the biting cold. She really regretted not grabbing a better coat. Everything was quiet except for the panting of her horse and it's muted steps in the snow. She'd never been this far in the woods-she'd never really been in the woods at all, come to think of it-and it took all Anna's skill to avoid hanging tree limbs and half-buried rocks as she forged ahead towards she could only hope her sister had fled. After a few minutes they reached a small clearing, and Anna pulled on the reins. Cocoa obeyed quickly, grateful for the brief rest. The shivering princess swiveled her head back and forth to get her bearings, breath fogging in the air. And...there! In the distance was the solemn gray mass of Elsa's mountain. Well, it wasn't really Elsa's mountain, but Anna distinctly remembered Elsa saying something when they were kids about that mountain being her favorite because it was tallest (or something like that), so it might as well be Elsa's mountain. It had to be, really. If Elsa hadn't gone there, she had no idea where to look next. Anna sneezed.

"I felt something at the coronation ball, Cocoa," Anna rubbed her arms as she stared at Elsa's mountain. "Elsa _talked_ to me. Maybe she doesn't hate me-or, at least it didn't seem like she hates me, maybe she was pretending, I guess it would be hard to know, since, y'know, we haven't exactly talked much, but it didn't feel like she was. So we're going to find her, Cocoa." Anna smiled and patted the fjord horse's neck. "And we'll figure out what's going on." She pulled her cloak tighter and urged the horse forward towards the mountain.

* * *

"Iduna."

Agnarr stood rigidly in the doorway, eyes fixed on his wife. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, and his brow creased with worry. The Queen rose immediately from the desk she'd been reading at. She'd learned long ago those particular expressions of her husband meant thinly controlled emotion-and only one person these days was capable of causing such a reaction.

"Gerda, prepare some tea. Quickly." The tall, thin woman behind her curtsied and left the room.

Iduna followed her husband out of the room and into the corridor. He was already several paces ahead, fueled by nervous energy. His light brown hair glowed amber as the light of the setting sun filtered through the glass windows and bathed the hallway in fiery orange. Their lengthened black shadows trailed silently behind them.

"What upset her this time? And where is Anna?" Iduna questioned, half running to keep up with the long strides of her husband. The two exited the window-lined hallway into the deeper parts of the castle, and the light dimmed. They reached the staircase, and the King took the steps three at a time.

"I've already sent Kai to occupy Anna in the gardens," he finally answered, "I don't know what upset her this time. I tried talking to her but she refused to open the door no matter what I said." His voice was pained. "I left to get you when I noticed frost spreading onto the hall carpet."

Iduna bit her lip. This sounded worse than normal. The pair rushed the remaining way without speaking, their footsteps echoing grimly against walls that suddenly looked far too barren.

The Queen's fears were confirmed the moment she and Agnarr reached Elsa's room. The painted wooden door was cool to the touch, and a thin sheet of ice coated the edges. Frost had crept several feet across the hall. After a moment of hesitation, Iduna stepped forward and knocked softly. The King stood a bit behind his wife, frustration evident in his features as his eyes flit back and forth between the door and the Queen.

"Elsa? Elsa, it's your mother. What's wrong?" Iduna winced at how loud her voice sounded in the empty hallway.

Their daughter remained silent.

Iduna knocked again, louder this time. "Elsa, I want to help. Your father and I both want to help you, dear. Please let us in. Gerda is making your favorite tea." The last part was spoken with half-hearted hope.

Iduna heard the faintest patter of feet (and was that a sniffle?), but the door remained closed. She knelt to peer through the keyhole only to find it blocked with ice.

"Elsa, _please._ "

When Elsa still did not respond, the Queen looked at her husband in exasperation.

" _Don't look at me like that, I don't know what else to say either! I've tried everything!"_ Agnarr whispered.

" _But we can't leave her like this."_ Idun mouthed back.

" _And what do you suggest?!"_

" _I don't know!"_

Agnarr opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. His shoulders sagged and he pinched the bridge of his nose, as his forehead wrinkled in thought. After a long moment he stepped forward. He rested his right hand on one of the wood panels and knocked loudly with his left. The left hand fell back to his side, but the other remained pressed against the wood, as if stabilizing him. When Agnarr spoke his speech was slow and halting.

"Elsa...darling…I know things have been...difficult." The King stared blankly at the purple designs on the door. His chest rose and fell slowly. "And I know that...that we haven't been able to...do as much for you as I- _we_ all hoped. But please let us try to do what we can when things like this happen. We care very much for you Elsa. Please believe me when I say your mother and I are trying our best. We...we hate seeing you unhappy."

The couple stood in the silent hallway, waiting. Just as frost began creeping up the toes of Agnarr's boots, the door unbolted with a soft _click_. The frozen handle turned slowly, ice falling out of the lock, and the door opened just enough to reveal an eleven-year old Elsa, her eyes rimmed red. The princess retreated back into the room before either parent could say anything, though the door was left ajar-a sign which both parents understood as permission to enter. Agnarr entered the room promptly, but Iduna paused when she noticed movement in her periphery. She turned to see a red-faced Gerda hurrying towards her with the tea. Iduna quietly thanked the woman as she took the tray, and sent her to help Kai entertain Anna. He'd need the help-that child _never_ ran out of energy. Iduna firmly gripped the edges of the tray and entered Elsa's room.

The first thing she noticed, as usual, was the temperature. The wall of cold hit her the moment she entered, making her cough involuntarily when the frigid air hit her lungs. She could see the wispy clouds of her breath when she exhaled, and immediately regretted forgetting to grab her coat.

Agnarr was sitting next to their daughter on the edge of the bed. Neither were speaking. The Queen set the tray on a small table near the nightstand, and prepared Elsa's tea. The glass cup clinked slightly against the plate when Iduna offered it to Elsa.

"Careful. It's still hot," she murmured as the child took the steaming cup. Though in this cold, who knows how long it'd stay that way.

Iduna caught her husband's attention and gestured towards the extra tea cups. Agnarr shook his head. Iduna pursed her lips, amused despite the situation. Ever the firm believer in coffee, that man was. Iduna gracefully sat in one of the painted chairs and made her own cup as she tried to figure out what to say to the child. When finished, she took a small sip before resting the cup on her lap to warm her hands.

Surprisingly, it was Elsa who spoke first.

"I had another dream," she mumbled. Her voice, still tinged with the lilt of childhood, sounded more vulnerable than ever.

Her father leaned forward to look his daughter in the eyes. Elsa tensed, but didn't move away.

"Is...is there anything we can do to help you? Do you think you could tell us what you dreamed about?"

Elsa hesitated before nodding. Steam no longer drifted up from the cup in her hands.

"I was being chased. I was running as fast as I could, Papa, fast like the wind. It was snowing really hard so I couldn't see what I was running from, but I knew it was there. The fjord was frozen, and I kept running and running across, but then the ice started cracking. I saw you and Mama, and I ran to you, and it took forever because I kept slipping, but when I-"

Elsa stopped, her breathing starting to quicken. Ice began forming on the edges of the tea cup.

"Elsa if you don't want to tell us you don-" Iduna started.

"When I got to you Papa," Elsa interrupted, "you were stone! And you were stone too, Mama!" Elsa spoke quickly now, her voice stained with growing panic and lowered to barely more than a whisper. "And you both looked so _sad_. And then the ice broke and you were both sinking, and I tried grab you but you were too heavy. And then the ice re-froze all clouded so I couldn't see you, and no matter how hard I hit the ice and yelled, it didn't break!" Tears starting falling down Elsa's cheeks. Alarmed at their child's rapid deterioration, both parents tried to console her, but the princess continued as if they didn't exist. "And then I looked up, and there was Anna. She was calling for me so I ran to her, but when I touched her-" Elsa's voice was shrill, "she froze! She looked so scared! Of me! And then she melted and all the ice around me turned red, and then it cracked and I fell in the water. I kept trying to get out-it was so cold-but the ice was too slippery and I couldn't hold on. The ice broke more and my head went underwater, and then the ice froze again above me-I tried hitting it but it wouldn't break! Papa it was dark! It was dark and cold, and I couldn't breathe! The next time I hit the ice it clouded up, and I couldn't move my arms or legs anymore! The red went away and I just sank down and down in the dark and the ice got farther and farther and farther and I tried to scream but then the water rushed in and-DON'T TOUCH ME!"

A haphazard blast of ice and cold pulsed from the child's body as she recoiled from the touch of her father's hand on her shoulder. The edge of it clipped Iduna and the table, sending her sprawling onto the floor in a mess of tea, but the brunt of the force slammed squarely into the King, throwing him clear across the room. His body thudded against the back wall and his head slammed back with a _crack_ into the hanging mirror, shattering it, before slumping to the ground. The room fell into shocked silence. The icy mist surrounding the prone form of the King dissipated slowly, leaving only scattered chunks of ice and shards of glass. Elsa looked horrified.

" _...Agnarr!"_ Iduna shrieked and stumbled to her husband, her thoughts flickering back to the incident with Anna. She frantically mumbled her husband's name over and over as she felt the back of his head for blood. There was a bump, and a couple minor cuts on his face from the glass, but a blonde streak like Anna's was nowhere to be seen. The door to Elsa's room burst open, and the handmaiden bustled in with a broom held high. The servant's eyes widened, and she immediately flew to the Queen's side just as Agnarr began moving.

"Your majesty, wh-"

"Get Kai," Iduna ordered. The handmaiden turned around instantly and flew out of the room with the briefest 'Yes, m'lady.'

Iduna glanced at her left hand. It was a terrible, splotchy red, and sensitive. A burn. Wet, yellow-brown stains soaked her sleeve and torso. Iduna vaguely remembered feeling heat when she'd fallen-the teapot must have spilled on her. Now that she was aware of the injury, it throbbed painfully. The Queen tried to ignore the pain and quell her racing heart as held one of her husband's hands and ran trembling fingers through his mussed up hair, half-expecting a streak of blonde to appear at any moment. Agnarr blinked slowly, his eyes unfocused. His breaths were uneven as his body tried to recover from the impact. He'd noticeably began shivering. A small noise behind Iduna made her jump. Elsa had slid down from her bed to lean against the bedpost, white-knuckled hands clutching the wood as she stared with wide eyes at her parents. Iduna tried to muster a smile, but was too unnerved for it to be convincing.

"It's all right, Elsa...h-he'll be fine." Her voice wavered on the last word, and if she wasn't a queen she might have let the tears slip. Elsa was obviously unconvinced, but before she could speak again, Agnarr moved beneath her hands.

"Agnarr?" Iduna whispered. Her husband's face twisted in a grimace. Still too winded to speak, the King lifted a hand to rub at his temple and tried to push himself up. Iduna pushed him back down when his weight-bearing arm shook precariously. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Elsa move towards them, and irrational fear flooded her mind with panic.

"Elsa, stop!"

Elsa recoiled as if she'd been burned.

Iduna immediately regretted her outburst. "Oh...Elsa, I...I'm so sorry, I didn't mean...n-not like that, sweetie, just...would you mind helping with the china?"

The princess kneeled dejectedly next to the broken dishware right as the bedroom doors flew open.

"Your Majesties!" Kai's voice boomed as he bounded into the room with Gerda and the handmaiden at his heels. He was at the King's side in two giant steps. Gerda knelt next to Elsa, who was hugging her knees to her chest.

"I'm...I'm fine." The King managed to wheeze as Kai and Iduna helped him slowly get to his feet. He was unbalanced, and leaned against Kai heavily. The stout servant frowned.

"I must respectfully disagree, Your Highness. Please allow me to escort you to your room. You need rest." The Queen traded places with the other handmaiden, and watched as the pair helped Agnarr limp from the room.

Gerda was speaking to the princess, her aged face wearing compassion, worry, and trepidation. There was several hand's widths between the two of them, and Gerda showed no signs of moving closer. After a motion from Iduna, the older woman retreated to hover by the door, ready to help if needed. Elsa noticed her mother's gaze and looked away.

"I-I'm sorry, Mama." Traitorous tears slipped down Elsa's cheeks. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt Papa. I don't want to hurt anyone-"

Elsa's voice faltered when her mother took hold of her hands. Iduna squeezed gently, and fixed her daughter with a compassionate but firm stare.

"Elsa, I need you to listen to me."

"But Mama-"

"No, Elsa, _listen_. I need you to know you are not a bad person. You are _not_ a bad person. Your father and I hold _nothing_ against you for what just happened. Or for anything related to your powers. We all just...need to make sure we're being careful with our emotions, so those powers don't get too strong, or get out of hand, alright? We will never be scared of you, darling. But...when your powers get too strong, it can be hard to deal with. That's why we closed the gates, remember?"

Elsa nodded.

"We just have to learn how to control it, and your father and I are trying as hard as we can to find ways to help you do that. Please remember we're here for you, and we want to help, for as long as you need it. You're the bravest little girl I know, Elsa, and we're so _proud_ of you. You just have to keep being brave, okay?"

Elsa pulled her hands away to wipe at her eyes. She hugged her arms over her chest and looked away. "Can you and Papa hurry?"

The light filtering in from the window gleamed on the edges of the broken china strewn across the floor. Elsa's cup had dropped by the foot of the bed. A jagged crack ran down its side, splitting the intricate flower design in two. The tea within was frozen solid.

"Of course, sweetie. Of course."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Remember to leave a review! 3**

 **Notes:**  
-Forgetting to grab proper clothing must run in the family. Like mother, like daughter.  
-I always found it odd that Anna knew EXACTLY where Elsa went. Like, you see how many mountains there are? So I think it's possible that the mountain Elsa went to was mentioned somehow previous to the movie's events.  
-I never liked how some people think the King and Queen were abusive parents. I can't imagine how stressful being in that situation would be, and based on the movie, I really think they had both daughter's best interests at heart. I think their side of the story is equally important, so there will be some timeline jumping.  
-By the events of the movie, we know that Elsa can lose control of her powers if she is in emotional distress. I wouldn't be surprised if similar instances of Elsa losing control happened in the first few years after Anna's accident. Suddenly thinking her powers as a curse rather than a blessing would no doubt be upsetting to a child, so I imagine the adjustment would have been a little bumpy. It would also help explain why Elsa was terrified of hurting people to the point where she didn't want to be touched at all.

I'm hoping to be more consistent with updating, maybe once a week since I'll be a full time student and working.

 **watertribewolf:** I know, I'm finally getting around to it, now that interest in the fandom has cooled. :'D Typical me Haha. I'm tempted to write some fics for Voltron Legendary Defender though, I'm obsessed with that show. You should definitely post things even if you have to combine stuff to make it longer. I'd love to see what kind of stuff you write!  
 **snow universe:** Thanks for reading!  
 **Smurfette101:** Thank you for the kind words! I agree with you that a friendship seems a bit more suited to Elsa and Jack than romance based on their canon personalities, hopefully I can do the thought justice. Glad you enjoyed the first chapter, I hope you enjoy upcoming chapters as well! :)


	3. Eyes Within Shadow

_"_ _It matters not how fast light may travel, darkness shall always be there awaiting its arrival."_

 _-_ _Mark W. Boyer_

* * *

 _(The next night)_

She was an... _interesting_ creature.

Pitch Black hovered outside the window, observing the sleeping child inside. His humanoid form, only partly materialized, shimmered like black smoke, edges blending into the darkness of night. His eyes were sharp pools of glowing gold. It was uncharacteristically cold for this time of year. A bitter wind blew across the fjord, sending ripples across water that sparkled in the moonlight. Both the city and the nature around it were eerily silent.

The child turned in her sleep yet again, now facing the window. She curled into a ball, clutching her blankets. Strands of her white blonde hair fell across her young face.

The being outside the window melted into pure shadow and entered the room through the cracks in the windowsill. Threads of shadow ghosted over the floor and reformed at the base of the child's bed. Now in full physical form, he continued to watch the child, his expression torn between curiosity and indifference.

This was the second time he'd been drawn to this area under unique circumstances.

The first time, he'd been in France when he felt the sharp spike of fear resonate from the northeast. His interest had been piqued, of course, but, assuming it to be merely the start of the usual natural disaster or little skirmish between mortals, he'd finished his work at a normal pace and left to investigate the next evening. He'd been a streak of black as he rode his right-hand Nightmare through the sky, in no particular hurry. He had been thoroughly confused when he arrived to find the town in perfect working order. Arendelle (he'd deduced it was termed, judging by its gaudy welcome sign) had not had wailing mothers wandering the streets, stepping over diseased bodies and clutching dying children. There had been no earthquake to topple buildings. Invaders had not pillaged and burned homes. The level of fear from the town was fairly normal. The fear he'd felt so sharply had dimmed, and he couldn't tell why, or where it had originally come from. Perplexed as he had been, without any real clues he had simply shrugged the phenomenon off and left for Peru, where the threat of war loomed.

But then, two years later, Pitch felt that mysterious fear again. This time it lingered, and now here he was, staring down at a girl no older than ten.

What intrigued him most was not the the girl's disproportionate level of fear (very strange as it was) as much as it was how he couldn't tell...quite _what_ she was afraid of. He'd always taken great pride in his instinctive ability to know what a person's greatest fear was. No matter how guarded a person considered themselves, he _always_ knew. He easily fed off their insecurities, manipulated their emotions and laughed at their despair. It had always been fun for him. Yes, of course it had. The greater the fear, the stronger he felt. Most people's fears were direct. But this child's fear seemed...hazy. It lightly touched everything, as if the girl _herself_ couldn't decide what she was afraid of. He frowned. No. Not decide. It was as if she couldn't _tell_. Which meant _he_ couldn't tell.

He slowly straightened, hands clasped behind his back.

How interesting.

He stepped back, merging into the shadow of the wall. The girl was obviously royalty. Two golden eyes took one last look before disappearing.

It was time for a little investigating.

* * *

He slunk through the castle's hallways, fluidly moving from shadow to shadow. Despite the late hour, he'd found the royal suite empty, and now lazily searched from room to room. Typically he'd just pinpoint where the other occupants were based on fear concentrations, but much to his annoyance, the fear radiating from the child overpowered the entire castle. He was forced to search the old-fashioned way. He passed a tall, thin servant woman bustling down the hallway with a tray of food in hand.

Gerda Kjellberg. Afraid of large wild animals and fire.

He reached out and solidified part of the shadow from the woman's skirt, wrapping it around her foot. Gerda tripped spectacularly, though by some miracle just barely avoided both faceplanting onto the carpet and dropping the tray. She continued down the hallway after sending a brief, flustered glance back at the seemingly innocent carpet. Amused, he traveled up the cracks of the stone wall to the shadow beneath a light fixture and watched her leave.

The glint of the tray's dishes caught his eye as the woman turned the corner. Those were expensive-looking dishes. Servants didn't eat from expensive dishes. He slipped back into the shadows of the floor and quickly followed after the woman. Eventually they reached a set of large carved oaken doors. He slithered under the door before the servant opened it, running up the wall and across the ceiling of the spacious library before settling between shadowed rafters. Two people, the King and Queen it looked like, sat at one of the tables in the middle of the large room, surrounded by piles and piles of books. The King had dozed off sitting upright, with his cheek pillowed in his hand, and the Queen was bent over an open book fast asleep. Her small frame was dwarfed by the King's jacket draped over her shoulders.

Agnarr of Arendale. Afraid of blood and failure.

Iduna of Arendale. Afraid of heights, insects, and hypothermia.

Common fears.

Agnarr startled awake when Gerda knocked and opened the door. He sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes as he gestured for her to enter. There was a red spot on his cheek where he'd been resting it on his hand. Gerda stepped forward and placed the tray on a nearby table. She opened her mouth to speak, but the King rose from his chair and put a finger to his mouth, sending a pointed look towards his wife. They retreated a few paces away to avoid waking Iduna, and began speaking in hushed tones as the servant prepared the King's drink (black coffee, judging by the smell).

Pitch was too far up to make out their words, so he drifted through the shadows back to the floor and reassumed physical form. Moving as a shadow was quicker (and more fun), but the center of the room was too well lit for him to get close that way. He strolled across the plush carpet before plopping down on a chair next to the King. In these situations it was convenient that few people could see him. He put his feet up on the table as he listened to the conversation.

The servant was being quite forthright, in Pitch's opinion, with her stern insistence that the King and the Queen retire to their beds before they fall ill. Agnarr reassured her that he was fine, and the events of the day before had left no lasting effects. But after a long look back at the sleeping Queen and then at the mug in his hands, he surrendered to the reality of his exhaustion. His chest deflated with a heavy sigh and he ran a hand through his hair. He handed his untouched mug back to Gerda with an apologetic smile before turning back towards the Queen. He gently put his hands on her shoulders, murmuring for her to wake up. She woke slowly, her eyes squinting against the light of the chandeliers. The King helped her stand and guided her towards the library doors, his jacket still around her shoulders. Gerda extinguished the lights and exited after the royal couple with tray in hand. The large doors closed with a hollow thud, and Pitch was alone.

Pitch remained in the chair for a moment longer, slightly annoyed that the conversation between the King and the servant had yielded no useful information. Eventually he stood up, and glided to the table of books. He'd bet his strongest Fearling that the (obviously) frantic research of the royal parents was related to the child's state. Several opened books were scattered on top of each other between the stacks. Pitch picked one up and began flipping through it.

" _...that the Stone called the Philosopher's Stone, comes out of Saturn. And therefore when it is perfected, it makes projection as well in mans' Body from all Diseases, which may assault them either within or without, be they what they will, or called by what name soever, as also in the imperfect Metals."_

Pitch jumped to the end, skimming for anything useful.

" _...the poison shall forthwith evacuate by siege, together with all the evil Humours in his Body."_

Nope. Pitch put the book back and picked up another.

" _No bodily thing hath any energy or operation in itself saving so far for as it is an instrument of the same Spirit, or informed by it, for that which is merely corporeal is merely passive."_

" _...He that knows how to infuse the propitious Heaven or Sun into things, or the mixtures of things, may perform wonders, and hereupon depend all magical operations…"_

No. Pitch tossed the book back.

" _...Fire is the Father, and the Mother is air_

 _Brother and Sister, Earth and Water, are_

 _These in their number weight and Measure_

 _Make of this world the hidden treasure_

 _Joined them thro light let them unite together_

 _That they may live in love and be for Ever..."_

Definitely not. Pitch dropped the book back on the pile. He glanced over the titles of the stacked books. They looked equally useless. A chance glance at the other side of the table slowed his step.

The book the Queen had been sleeping on…

Pitch lifted the book and sifted through the pages. His eyes narrowed. This book…

He skimmed through pages describing legends, beings of myth, conditions and afflictions of magic. He paused when he reached a bookmarked page of a king laying on a stone table, a troll standing behind him with arms raised, circled by blue mist. The picture lacked much written detail besides a title and brief description.

Pitch tapped his chin, deep in thought as he stared at the simple and self-explanatory title.

The Ice-Cursed.

As his mind began piecing together the clues from the conversation, books, the child's haphazard fear, and his own knowledge of magic, a twisted smile began to steal across his face. Oh. He'd heard of this before. Whispers every thousand years or so-stories of tragedy, when the paths of mortals and magic intersect in undesirable ways. Those unfortunate parents. He dropped the book and left the library, traveling through the shadows until he was back in the child's room. Circles of gold peered at the girl from the shadows in the corner.

His inability (momentary, of course) to determine the girl's fears made sense now. Pitch exited the castle, a satisfied smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he reinterpreted the haze of fear that surrounded the girl.

He called a Night-mare to his side and as he flew across the sky to escape the approaching dawn. His mirth bubbled inside him until it finally escaped with an insidious laugh.

He disappeared into the dark sky, his laughter slowly fading into the night sky.

He'd be keeping an eye on this one.

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Back in the library, the last book Pitch had discarded lay atop the haphazard pile of books, still open to the pages about the Ice-Cursed. Then, inexplicably, the right hand page floated ever so slightly upwards, as if hit by the faintest breeze. The page hovered up and down, not entirely turning over though still not settling down. Without warning, the pages abruptly began to turn. The room reverberated with an oppressive hum that rattled the chandeliers and shelves of books. The turning pages picked up speed, until they suddenly stopped with a loud _crack_ , and a guest of wind knocked the nearby stacks of books to the floor. The chandeliers ceased shaking, and the library was silent once more.

On the newly exposed pages of the book was the image of a boy with white hair...

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 **Lol I thought I could still regularly update despite being a working full time student. Oh the follies of youth.**

 **Notes:**

-Pitch makes an entrance!

-I imagine the King and Queen would be trying everything they could to figure out how to help Elsa, looking through literally everything they could, from books on myths to books on alchemy. Reading and re-reading everything when they could to make sure they didn't miss something.

-The little excerpts Pitch reads are from old alchemical texts.

-I may later combine this with chapter two (since I don't like having multiple chapters between past/present time jumps).

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 **snow-universe:** Glad you enjoyed! :) Good catch on the part of the King's little slip up. I have some theories why he did that which'll come up in later chapters.

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 **Next chapter we will return to the present, and see what's going on with our favorite snow queen and ice spirit!**


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